


Dying Breath

by Missne



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missne/pseuds/Missne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Matt is dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying Breath

**Author's Note:**

> The last of the previously posted ones, this has also been on fanfiction.net before but isn't any longer. I don't own these lovely characters or the work they emerged from, if I did there would have been Ryuk in all of the anime episodes.

Shot to death beside my own car.

There isn't much to say, really. A boring childhood in a orphanage that never got visited by prospect parents. I didn't talk much, never had to. Some said I was the third smartest, but that never meant much. Next to Mello I was just like any other kid, I guess that's why I always stayed close. We were alike in almost everything, height, look, interests... Well, if you put aside his obsessive need to be better than Near.

We shared the same distant arrogance towards the rest of the world, like it was all just a game for us to play. Being raised there as prodigies, we never needed normal emotions, empathy or self preservation. All we ever really did was play together in the margins of the world, him and me, until L died. Then everything changed.

He started sticking his head out again, changed the pace between us. We couldn't just sit back anymore, with him chasing around the world to prove himself. And since I was still the silent one, I tagged along. Did the minor jobs. Sometimes I feel like I was the only one keeping him sane, like he kept me around unknowingly to keep himself grounded. I'll never know, I guess.

The sad part is that I knew this was going to be a suicide mission. I knew stepping out of this car that I wasn't here to take care of anything for him, other than to serve as a distraction for whatever other plan he had going at the moment. He never told me about them, and I never asked. I wasn't a part of that life, and sometimes I think that was what he liked best about me.

But the look he gave me through his blond bangs as he glanced my way that last time said everything he never had the guts to. And for a moment, with his burnt side turned away from me, he looked just like the kid I used to grow up with. So I smiled at him, like I had never done before in the company of others, and just nodded.

My dying breath is wasted with thoughts of a life that never was, and as it turns out, never will be.

So beneath that scarred skin, the obsession with chocolate, the fits of rage and the constant race to become number one, there's just one lingering thought:

I hope he knew he always was.


End file.
